


The Way I Was Made

by tchrgleek



Series: The Way I was Made [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, kurt_big_bang_fall_2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tchrgleek/pseuds/tchrgleek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burt Hummel was a conservative Baptist pastor when his son turned his world upside-down. Follows Kurt's life from early childhood, through his mother's death, adolescence, to meeting Blaine. See how and why Burt's mind opens and changes as Kurt grows up.</p><p>From this prompt: http://kurt-bigbang.livejournal.com/7015.html?thread=95847#t95847 </p><p>"There is a church near my house that is currently going through some remodeling, and as such they’ve changed their sign. Their new sign says You Matter To God, and You Matter to Us.</p><p>My first thought was, “Oh God, Burt Hummel became a Baptist preacher.”</p><p>My second thought was, “Holy crap, I’d read the fuck out of that fic.”</p><p>So I guess what I’m saying is fandom? Get on it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growing up different

Elizabeth Ann Hummel sat on the stairs to the upper floor of the parsonage, watching her little boy, Kurt, as he pranced around the dining room table, singing at the top of his lungs.

_Do, a deer, a female deer. Re, a drop of golden sun._

“Mama, why you not singin’ wif me?”

Elizabeth smiled down at him, eyes sparkling as she joined him on the next line.

_Mi, a name, I call myself. Fa, a long, long way to run!_

She stood up and took his hands, joining him as they went twirling and dancing around the room.

_Sol, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow sol._

_Ti, a drink with jam and bread. That will bring us back to do-do-do-do._

“What’s going on in here?”

“Daddy!” Kurt ran to his father and jumped at him, tripping over the floral tablecloth he’d tied around his waist as a skirt.

“Oops! Watch out, buddy,” Burt said, as he scooped Kurt up into his arms.

“We singing _Sound of Music_ , Daddy! Come sing wif us!”

“I can’t right now, kiddo. I have to go visit Mr. Smalley in the hospital,” replied Burt, “but I bet Mama would love to sing it again with you.” Burt looked at Elizabeth, eyes twinkling with mirth. He kissed his son on the top of his head and set him down.

“Of course, baby. Let’s do it again.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Burt as Kurt started on his 101st rendition of the afternoon.

_Do, a deer_

Burt shook his head, laughing as he walked down the hall to the front door and left to do his hospital visit.

 

Kurt and his mother had always had a special connection. It was more than their shared love of musicals, or the fact that he was more interested in sewing with her than changing the oil on their Chevy with Burt. It was like she somehow had the rulebook for how to deal with a toddler in high heels and Burt missed that class in school.

Burt loved his son more than anything except his wife and his Lord, but damn if it wasn’t hard to understand him. When Kurt was born and the doctor announced “It’s a boy,” Burt’s first thought wasn’t how to find him a pair of sensible heels. Honestly, what three-year-old boy asks for sensible heels for his birthday? No, Burt had planned t-ball games and Little League, football practice and track meets.

He hadn’t anticipated Kurt at all.

Kurt -- the lover of songs, stories, and dress-up. The kid who was just as comfortable in his mother’s wide-brimmed, purple straw hat as he was in overalls. Heck, probably even more comfortable. As much as Burt tried to interest Kurt in sports and cars, Burt’s two main joys, he just couldn’t do it. As the pastor of Spirit of Peace Baptist Church in Lima, Ohio, he was an extremely busy man, so he ended up feeling grateful but a little guilty that his wife and his son were so connected. It made it easier for him to submerge himself in his sermons, visitations and event planning without feeling like he was missing out on the games and events in his son’s life.

Every so often he would watch and smile as Elizabeth sang Beatles’ classics or Broadway showstoppers with Kurt, but more often than not he’d retire to his office and plan the sermon for the next Sunday.

 

****

The summer after Kurt turned three, Elizabeth and Kurt ran across a _Great Performances_ production of _The Little Mermaid_ by the San Francisco ballet on PBS one evening while Burt was at church for a Deacon’s meeting. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as the ballerinas and danseurs danced the original tale, from the author’s tragic dive into the ocean after being rejected by his love, to Ariel’s first sight of humans, to her last breath as she faded away into the sea foam[tg1] . He was in tears as Ariel’s life seemingly faded away.

“Mama, how can I do that?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“How can I dance like that? Where do I learn how?”

“Would you like to learn ballet, Kurt? Would you like to dance like those men?”

“I would, Mama. I really would.”

The next morning, while watching Blue’s Clues, Kurt attempted some of the moves he’d seen in the ballet the night before during the theme song. Elizabeth watched him from the doorway to the living room and went to the phone. She checked around with other moms at church and got a recommendation for a ballet studio near the center of town.

When they arrived for Kurt’s first class, they checked in at the front desk in the hall.

“Madame Virginia’s studio is up the stairs and to the right.”

Kurt was so excited he practically floated his way up the stairs. Elizabeth trailed after him, overhearing the whispers of several women in the lobby, some of them prominent members of their congregation, as they wondered why Pastor would let his son dance “gay ballet”. She shook her head, trying to ignore the ignorance, and smiled as she caught sight of her son trying on a pink tutu and dancing around waving a fairy wand.

After his first class, Kurt didn’t stop smiling for hours. That night when he went to bed, he prayed “Thank you, Jesus, for ballet class and Madame Virginia and all the fun I had today.”

 

It was the third week before he stopped floating home after class and began to sulk a bit.

“What’s wrong, Kurtsie-Pie?” asked Elizabeth, looking at his sullen face in the rear-view mirror as they drove home.

“Mama, why do those moms laugh at me and call me fairy even when I’m not wearing the wings?”

“Oh, Kurt. They just don’t understand. They think dancing is only for girls.”

“That’s silly, Mama. There were lots of boys in _The Little Mermaid_.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

“I really want to dance, Mama, just like them. I want to!”

“Then go for it, Kurt. You can do anything you want to do and be anything you want to be. That’s how God made you.”

Later that evening, Elizabeth made some warm milk with nutmeg, poured it into two mugs, and brought them in to Burt’s study, setting one next to him. She sat on the black leather couch, tucking her feet underneath her.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, we need to talk about Kurt, Burt. Some of the church ladies were making fun of him at Madame Virginia’s tonight and he overheard them.”

“What do you expect? He’s dancing ballet. Of course people are going to make fun of him.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “What? You think it’s okay to make fun of a three year old?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t say that. I just said it’s to be expected.” Burt said, his hands out in front of him, placating.

“Don’t patronize me, Burt. Either you are a part of the problem or a part of the solution and right now you are a part of the problem.” She got up, left her milk on the coffee table, and slammed the door to the study on her way out.

Burt sighed, rubbed his head, and turned back to his sermon notes.

***

Kurt and his mom had a habit of watching a video together every day before naptime. Kurt was allowed to pick from a library of DVDs that were short enough to help him calm down without being so long that he’d fall asleep on the couch. His favorites featured Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber and their singing and dancing Veggie Tales friends reenacting stories from the Bible.

His mother often laughed at different places than Kurt did, which confused him, but grown-ups were always weird.

One day, Kurt chose to watch one of the very first ones. The first half of the show reminded him of the story his daddy had told him about, the one where Jesus was trying to make people understand that you needed to treat people nicer, even when it was your enemy that was hurt. Kurt loved the vegetables that had shoes on their heads and didn’t understand why someone who had a pot on theirs couldn’t be friends with them.

“Mama, why do they keep throwing things at each other just cuz they wear different stuff on their heads?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t understand people sometimes, Kurt. All the way back in Jesus’s time they hated people who were different, and they still sometimes do, sweetie.”

“But Jesus said to love everyone, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“That was like, millions of years ago, wasn’t it?”

“Well, thousands, but it was a long time ago, yes.”

“Didn’t anybody listen to him, then?”

“Some did, sweetie, but maybe not enough. That’s why daddy became a preacher. He wants to remind people what Jesus said and make the world a better place.”

Kurt smiled and snuggled in for the Silly Song with Larry.

After Larry the Cucumber was done looking for his hairbrush in the silly song, another story came on, this time about being friends with kids that are weird.

“Mama, I wish all the kids in Sunday School could watch this one.”

At the end of the video, Kurt’s mom carried him upstairs to tuck him in for his nap, repeating the line from the end of the video, just like she did every time she tucked him in to sleep.

“Remember Kurt, God made you special, and he loves you very much.”

Then, for the first time, she continued, “I love you forever and always, no matter what.”

 

***

 

Kurt became obsessed with Disney movies around the age of four. He was grateful that the Ariel in the movie was rescued from her tragic fate by her loving father. He attempted to sing like Sebastian the crab.

[ _Under da sea_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GC_mV1IpjWA) _, under da sea._

_Darlin’ it’s bettah, down where it’s wettah,_

_Take it from me!_

Burt arrived home from an evening Bible study one night to find Kurt and Elizabeth dressed to the nines, with Kurt wearing red oven mitts as claws and Elizabeth wrapped in a green towel from the waist down, reenacting all of Kurt’s favorite parts of the movie. Burt walked up behind his wife, wrapped his arms around her waist, and chuckled in her ear as Kurt kept [on singing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aobVs-HfsCI).

_Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la_

_My, oh my_

_Look like the boy too shy_

_Ain’t gonna kiss da girl._

Kurt stopped for a moment, looking up at his parents with a question in his eyes.

“Mama, Daddy? Why do boys have to kiss girls?”

Burt responded, “That’s the way God made us, son. ‘Male and female, God created them’, remember? In Genesis?”

“Oh.” Kurt looked crestfallen for a moment, then went back to singing.

_Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la_

_Ain’t that sad_

_Ain’t it a shame, too bad_

_You gonna miss da girl._

***

“Burt, what are you going to do about the fact that those catty women are harassing our son, and teaching their children to harass him as well?”

Burt looked up from his Bible and set his coffee cup down on the kitchen table.

“What are you talking about, Liz?”

“Darn it, Burt. Get your head out of the sand. Kurt is different. You know it as well as I do.”

“Well, yeah. I guess I do.”

“Those harp- , those women, whose husbands serve on the deacon’s committee or the elder board or the finance committee? Those women are the ones that laugh at Kurt every single time I take him to ballet class. Their kids tease him about being a “fairy” right now, but how much longer do you think it’s going to take for them to use another “f” word?

“Liz, it’s not like that, I mean –“

“Seriously, Burt? That’s exactly what it’s like.”

“But Kurt, do you really think he’s –,” Burt paused, unable to enunciate his fear.

“Say it, Burt.”

“Do you think he’s going to be gay?” Burt’s voice trailed off to a whisper.

“No, Burt, I don’t think he’s going to _be_ gay. I think he already is.”

Burt gulped. “What are we gonna do, Liz?”

“We aren’t going to do anything, baby. God made him to be who he is. We can’t change that.”

“But gay? A pastor can’t have a fag for a kid, Lizzie.” Burt put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyebrow into his forehead with two fingers.

Elizabeth exploded, “Burton Hummel, I don’t ever want to hear that word out of your mouth again!”

Burt looked up quickly. “What word, fag? That’s what they’re called, right?”

“Would you call that sweet little Jackson baby a retard? Or Pastor Jones a nigger?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then don’t you dare use that word about our son, or any other homosexual. Ever.”

“Okay, okay. But still, my point stands. What are people gonna think?”

Elizabeth dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Burt’s chair. “I think that’s up to you, honey. You are the leader of this congregation. If you lead them in the right direction, maybe they’ll follow?”

“But, what is the right direction? The Bible is so clear on this one, Liz.”

“Is it? Maybe it’s time for you to look into it some more, Burt. You might be surprised.”

With that, she stood up, kissed his forehead, turned his Bible to 1 John and left.

Burt prayed for wisdom and began reading.

 

***

 

The church nursery stopped taking children at the age of four, which created a dilemma for Pastor Burt and Elizabeth. She led the choir, sitting on the platform between the pulpit and the baptismal for the length of the service, and of course, Burt, being the pastor, was in the pulpit more often than not. There weren’t many people in the congregation who wanted to deal with an extra child, especially one as _unusual_ as Kurt.

As it turned out, they needn’t have worried, as Kurt was mesmerized by the music. He’d sit in the second row with his little chin resting on top of his hands, leaning against the back of the pew in front of him, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the choir as their voices soared in worship. On one occasion, he’d stood up and danced with all his might, twirling and whirling across the aisle, causing titters and whispers from some of the older members of the church. Burt watched from his mini-pew on the platform, not sure at first if he should say something or if he should let it continue. He’d eventually decided to just let Kurt dance, and made a quick adjustment to his sermon that day.

“Good morning, church!”

“Good morning, pastor.”

“What a wonderful display by our choir this morning. Aren’t they incredible?”

The congregation applauded loudly, whooping and whistling.

“In Ecclesiastes, the wisest man in recorded history wrote this in chapter 3:

_‘These is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens._

_A time to be born, and a time to die._

_A time to plant and a time to uproot._

_A time to kill and a time to heal._

_A time to tear down and a time to build._

_A time to weep and a time to laugh._

_A time to mourn and a time to dance.’_

“I want to thank my beautiful wife for reminding me that it is my job to build up, not tear down. That this is the right time to laugh and enjoy the gifts God has given us. Especially the gift of dance.

“The Bible has a lot to say about dancing, and contrary to popular opinion in the traditions of the Baptist church, the Bible speaks highly of dancing every time it is mentioned. Solomon’s father, King David, danced with all his might before the Lord in nothing but his underwear. It cost him his marriage, but the Lord was pleased with him. David was called a man after God’s own heart. That’s a title I want to wear someday, a title I want my son to wear as well.

“Five different times, in five different Psalms, David commands us to dance. Dance before the Lord. Dance in celebration. Turn our mourning into dancing. Psalm 150 verse 4 says ‘Praise him with tambourine and dancing, praise him with strings and pipe.’ I encourage you all, make time in your life to dance. Make time to enjoy the gifts the Lord has given you.”

Burt stepped back from the pulpit and glanced over at his wife as she stepped in front of the choir to lead the closing hymn. She had tears streaming down her face and a smile that lit up the room. He was sure that it was pride shining from her eyes, mixed with a heaping portion of love.

 

***

The next week at ballet class, the same ladies were sitting in the waiting room as Kurt dashed up the stairs. Elizabeth overheard them snickering again. She made sure Kurt was settled at the barre and instead of staying upstairs to watch him through the window as was her usual routine, she decided to go back downstairs and sit in the waiting room with the other mothers.

It didn’t take long for them to stop whispering and snickering, but after a few minutes, one of them leaned towards her and asked, “Why are you encouraging your son’s deviant behavior?”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth pulled herself up straight and leaned forward slightly. “What did you just say?”

“I said, why are you encouraging your son’s deviant behavior? Don’t you know that most male dancers are gay? Why would you put your son in a class that might make him gay?”

Elizabeth drew in a long breath through her nose in an effort not to bite the woman’s head off. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said I don’t even know where to start. One- Barely half of male professional danseurs are gay. Two- Ballet doesn’t _make_ someone gay. The only thing that makes someone anything is God. God makes us who we are, period.”

Elizabeth stood up and walked towards at the other mother, ticking three fingers on her hand. “Three- Being gay isn’t _deviant_ behavior. God doesn’t make mistakes, and God made my son to be exactly who he is. If it turns out he is gay, I will celebrate his love and his relationships just as much as if he were straight.”

Elizabeth let go of every single bit of self-control at this point. “And finally, four- What business is it of yours how I choose to raise my son? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?” Elizabeth turned and walked back up the stairs to attempt to calm down before Kurt’s class finished. When he came over to her with his enormous grin lighting up his face after class, she enveloped him in a hug and clung to him until he squirmed away, telling her all about the new skills he’d learned that day.

***

Kurt was born to be a star. He knew it, even if the world hadn’t figured it out yet. His first starring role was in the Vacation Bible School Living Nativity, at the tender age of six weeks old. The theme that summer was “[365 Days of Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcwtzRej80k)”, and Kurt got to play the baby Jesus while all the kids in the congregation sang Christmas carols in July.

Before he was old enough to walk, he sang along with Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber, laughing his head off with Silly Songs with Larry. At the tender age of five, he cried when Mr. Lunt took over and Larry got fired. He remembered hearing over and over at the end of each Veggie Tales video, “God made you special and He loves you very much.”

He grew up singing with his mother, first songs like _Jesus Loves Me_ and _I’ve got the Joy,_ then moving on to _Give Me Oil in my Lamp_ , _I’m in the Lord’s Army,_ and _This Little Light._ His debut solo was[ _Thank You Jesus_](http://grooveshark.com/#!/search/song?q=Gail+Bonine+And+God%27s+Kids+Thank+You+Jesus), at the age of five. He started the song on the chorus all by himself with the piano, his mother joined in at the repeat, and then the choir and organ swelled behind them on the verse. The entire ladies’ fellowship was in tears before the end of his chorus and he played them like a violin, raising the hand that wasn’t holding the microphone at the beginning, lowering it when he got to “for all you’ve given me”, reaching out like he was accepting a gift from the Lord himself.

That was the first time he performed with his mother. After that rousing success, they found ways for him to sing solos with the choir; they sang duets together for the offering; they sang together for women’s fellowship events and funerals, Christmas Eve and Good Friday. It was just about Kurt’s favorite thing to do, second only to ballet.

 They were working on another solo for him to sing with the choir at Easter when Kurt was eight, but the drunk driver that smashed into his mother’s car took away the opportunity.

He ended up learning the rest of [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mj-pZQ_XjyU) in order to sing it at her funeral service, just a week before Easter.

_The very same God_   
_That spins things in orbit_   
_Runs to the weary_   
_The worn and the weak_   
_And the same gentle hands_   
_That hold me when I'm broken_   
_They conquer death to bring me victory_   
  
_Now I know my Redeemer lives_

Even as he was singing the words, he wasn’t so sure he could believe them anymore.

 

Kurt’s dad immersed himself in work after the funeral. With the Easter service only a week away and no choir director, he didn’t take the time to mourn. He also didn’t take time for Kurt. He brought Kurt with him to the church every day since it was Spring Break, and Kurt entertained himself with the baby toys in the nursery and by reading books from the church library. Despite the fact that the women in the church had filled their freezer with casseroles in the days following Elizabeth’s death, every meal that week had come from a drive through because of course, the choir rehearsed Wednesday evening, there was a Maundy Thursday and a Good Friday service, and Burt was in the sanctuary decorating for Easter bright and early Saturday morning.

At ten o’clock, the women’s ministry team came in pushing a cart full of lilies, expressing surprise to see Pastor Burt and Kurt hanging sheer white fabric from the ceiling, Burt high on the ladder while Kurt gave him directions from the floor. Nancy, the team leader, clucked under her breath and then asked, “What on earth are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at home today?”

“Well, someone has to get this done, and no one’s volunteered, so we came in to do it.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “We’re here now. Take your son and go home.”

Burt snapped, “I’m not going to let you ladies hang off a ladder when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

“Well I just think it’s a little early for you to be hanging from a ladder, considering your wife’s funeral was a week ago today. Go home and mourn properly before you kill yourself.”

Kurt looked wide-eyed at the grown-ups arguing, then ran out of the sanctuary towards the library.

“Dangitall, woman. Now you’ve gone and upset him. Maybe your idea of mourning isn’t the only one in the world.” Burt stalked out of the sanctuary to find Kurt, leaving a gaping group of women in his wake.

When Burt finally located Kurt, after five minutes that felt like five hours, Kurt was sobbing into his knees, leaning against the bookshelves in the children’s section of the church library.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, little buddy.”

Kurt turned his tear-filled eyes on his father and wailed. “She said you were going to kill yourself. You can’t, Daddy, you can’t! You can’t leave me too!” Kurt broke down into sobs again, not able to catch his breath.

Burt pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly. “I’m never gonna leave you, Kurt. Never.”

Through his tears, with big hiccup breaths, Kurt gasped out “You can’t promise that, Daddy. God’s gonna take you away just like he took Mommy.”

Burt just held on to his little boy and cried right along with him, thinking Elizabeth would have known what to say.

***

The next Friday Burt took a day off, away from the office. Fridays had always been an important family night. Burt had always made sure to be home in time for dinner, and he didn’t want Kurt to spend their first Friday dinner at a drive through. It was bad enough that Kurt had to come with him to the office every day after school. Burt had planned a full meal, including a roast chicken and mashed potatoes, all their favorites. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to actually cook any of it.

When Kurt got home from school, Burt had the chicken in the oven and was attempting to peel potatoes.

“Daddy, I’m home!” called Kurt, in a sing-song voice.

“Hey there, buddy! How was your – _ouch!_ ” There was a clattering sound from the kitchen.

Kurt ran towards the sound. “What did you do, Daddy? Are you okay?”

Burt looked at him sheepishly. “I’m fine bud. I just got my finger in the way of the potato peeler and I cut myself,” he said, as he ran his hand under cold water. “I’ll be okay.”

“Mommy showed me how to do that. Can I help you?” asked Kurt.

“That would be great, buddy,” replied Burt.

Kurt grabbed the potato peeler off the floor, rinsed it off, and grabbed the unfinished potato. “Gosh, Daddy, don’t you know that you have to only take little swipes off the side? You threw away half the potato here.”

“Yeah, well, I never really learned how to do much in the kitchen. Your grandma always told me that I’d grow up and marry someone to do it for me so she wasn’t going to teach me how to cook.”

Kurt looked over at his father with one eyebrow raised. “That’s silly, Daddy. Everyone should know how to cook.”

“Yeah, bud, I realize that now. Too bad it’s kinda late to learn.”

Later that evening, after scorching the potatoes and burning the canned corn, when Burt tried to carve into the bird, it was still mostly raw. Tears began to fill his eyes as Kurt’s face fell, disappointed. As they began to fall, Kurt climbed into his lap, took Burt’s face in his hands, and said, “Don’t worry daddy, KFC is still open.”

Burt snorted, knowing just how much Kurt hated KFC. “Right buddy, like you want to eat their food?”

Kurt replied, eyes wide open in honesty, “It’s got to be better than this.”

Burt guffawed, then threw his head back and laughed, a deep laugh right down through his belly. Kurt began giggling and a few minutes later their eyes were watering, their tummies ached from laughing, and hand in hand they walked out into the spring evening to get their dinner together.

 

***

Life was different for Kurt without his mom. He stopped going to dance classes because his dad was still immersed in work and was too busy to take him. He stopped singing and dancing around the house because it made his heart hurt too much, until one Sunday afternoon when he was sitting with his father, trying to understand the football game on the television.

“You know, kiddo, I used to think that maybe I’d get to see you playing football someday.”

“I don’t even understand this game, though. Why do they all jump on top of each other, Dad?”

Burt glanced over at him. “That’s called a tackle, son. They don’t want him running with the ball, so they try to knock him down.”

“Oh.”

A few minutes later: “Why did he just smack the other guy’s butt?”

“Because he ran a long way with the ball. That was a good play, so he was saying ‘Good job’”

“Oh.”

Another few minutes pass: “Why is he dancing like that?”

“He scored a touchdown, so he’s celebrating.”

“So football players dance?”

Burt looked over at Kurt again. “Sure they do. Lots of people dance.”

“How come you never dance, Daddy?”

“I never really learned how, I guess. Your mom –“

Kurt sucked in a breath and shuddered. “Don’t. Don’t say her name.”

Burt frowned. “Why not, buddy?”

Tears spilled down Kurt’s cheeks against his will. “Because I can’t be strong and brave if we talk about her, and I need to be strong and brave.”

“Who made you think you can’t cry, Kurt?”

“Well, big boys don’t cry, daddy.”

“Kurt, I cry all the time. Every time I go to bed and your mother isn’t in there. Every time I burn dinner.”

“Gosh, you do that all the time!”

“Oh be quiet, you,” teased Burt. “I guess I didn’t think that you don’t always see me when I cry.”

“I really miss her daddy. I miss The Sound of Music, and dancing and singing. I miss her perfume and the way she always smelled.” Kurt sniffed and rubbed his eyes, then continued, “I miss her dinners and the special notes she’d put in my lunch box. I especially miss our tea parties.”

“I miss her too, bud. So much.” Burt and Kurt clung to each other and cried together. Then, Burt got up and turned on the stereo, held out his hand to Kurt, and they danced together to the soundtrack from _My Fair Lady_.

The next morning, when Kurt woke up, his dad was waiting in the kitchen with a towel over his arm when Kurt got downstairs.

“Whatcha’ doin’, Daddy?”

“Well, Master Hummel, there is a tea party in the garden this morning, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

Kurt looked up at his father, confused. “A tea party?”

“Yes sir. Scones, lemonade, iced tea, and cookies.”

Kurt’s face lit up. “Well, then, we mustn’t be late.”

Kurt took his dad’s hand and allowed himself to be led to their small café table in the back yard, which was completely set up with his tea set, a table cloth, and even his teddy bear underneath on the grass. He taught his dad how to properly hold a tea cup, with his pinky pointed out and away, explained the difference between scones, biscuits and cookies, and enjoyed his morning far more than he had expected.

When it was all over and they were carrying in the last load of dishes into the kitchen, Burt wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss his perfectly coifed head. “I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

“I know I’m not your mom, but I love you forever, you know that?”

“I know, Daddy. I know.”

Together, they repeated Elizabeth’s trademark line, “Forever and always, no matter what.”

***

 

Kurt had always loved performing at church. He took a major role in the Sunday School play each Christmas, and even though his mom wasn’t the director anymore, he still got to sing solos with the choir on occasion. It was the one connection he was guaranteed with his Dad.

When Christmas rolled around that first year after Elizabeth died, he was asked to sing the soprano solo on the choir’s big number for the Christmas Eve service. When he realized the words of the third verse, he was sure that he had to do it. His dad sat in on their rehearsal the day before Christmas Eve, and tears of pride rolled down his cheeks as Kurt sang.

_Truly He taught us to love one another_   
_His law is love and His gospel is peace_   
_Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother_   
_And in His name all oppression shall cease_   
_Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,_   
_Let all within us praise His holy name_

_Fall on your knees_   
_Oh hear the angel voices_   
_Oh night, divine . . ._

When they went home after the rehearsal, Kurt slipped off into his room, where he had hidden away some old things of his mother’s, including one of her perfume bottles. He pulled it out and talked to her as if she could hear him.

“Dad forgot about the Christmas tree again, Mom. I don’t want to remind him because he’s so busy. You know how he gets around the holidays. Anyway, it’s just not the same without you here. I’m just going to hang a few decorations in my room.”

Kurt was taping the decorations on his window shade when his dad walked into his room to let him know dinner was almost ready.

Burt’s face fell and tears started streaming down his face when he realized what Kurt was doing. He insisted they go immediately and choose a Christmas tree together, forgetting all about dinner until they got home and smelled the overdone roast in the oven. They ordered pizza and decorated the tree together, laughing and singing along to his mother’s favorite Christmas albums. It wasn’t perfect, but it was them.

***

When Kurt began middle school, he escaped into the music in his headphones more and more. He still listened to some Christian music, especially the angry, mournful songs. He sang a couple in church, including a song called [_Job_ ,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPNTp0lkH18) where the first verse screamed out his pain to the God he wasn’t sure he could believe in anymore.

_Where were You when my night fell?_   
_Pieces shattered everywhere_   
_If I have loved You with my whole heart_   
_Time will tell, time will tell_

_Were the stars moving across the ocean?_   
_Did the world turn away for just a glance_   
_And leave me here in these ashes?_   
_I will weep, I will dance_

For the first time in his performing life, he left the room in a stunned silence. There was no applause, no smiles. Instead, as he sat back down in his spot in the choir loft, he looked out over the congregation and realized none of them understood him at all.

***

Kurt had a passion for the Beatles like no other child his age. His mother had started it when he was younger, but his father fueled it in the evenings, pulling out the cassettes and records that he and Elizabeth had fallen in love listening to.

“Dad, can I sing _Let it Be_ in church sometime? It’s about Mother Mary, so it works, right?”

Burt laughed. “Mother Mary in that song is talking about Paul McCartney’s mother, Kurt. It’s not a Christian song.”

“But it works, though. If you think about it, the light shining could be Jesus, and it could be talking about his mother, right?” Kurt continued, “And what’s so wrong about singing a song about mothers anyway? We sing about fathers all the time.”

“Kurt, we’re singing about our Heavenly Father, not our earthly fathers. The point of music in church is to inspire people to worship God.”

“Well, what if I sang _Imagine_?” Kurt asked. “That’s an inspiring song.”

Burt snorted. “Inspiring people right out of religion. What’s your deal, buddy? Can’t you find a worship song you want to sing?”

“I just don’t understand why we have to be limited to such a small amount of music. Why can’t I perform what I want to?”

“Because church isn’t about a performance, bud.  It’s about giving God the glory, not taking it for ourselves.”

“Fine. I’ll pick something else.”

He ended up choosing a[ solo](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6KwehOFCKI&feature=kp) for the offering, a popular song on Christian radio at the time:

_I want to live like there's no tomorrow_   
_I want to dance like no one's around_   
_I want to sing like nobody's listening_   
_Before I lay my body down_   
_I want to give like I have plenty_   
_I want to love like I'm not afraid_   
_I want to be the man I was meant to be_   
_I want to be the way I was made_

Once again, the congregation failed to applaud his performance. In the lobby during the coffee hour after the service, he overheard a conversation between some of the church ladies.

“What a shame poor Pastor Burt has a flaming fairy instead of a real son.”

“I know. Can you believe it?”

“It’s like he doesn’t even care that he’s flaunting his sin in front of his father’s church!”

“Well you know how they are. Fags don’t have any respect for God at all. That’s why the Bible calls homosexuality an abomination.”

“Poor Pastor, having an abomination for a son!”

Tears come to Kurt’s eyes as he turned and walked out the door.

 

 

The kids in church hadn’t taken it well, either. His dad was so proud of him every time he sang in front of everyone, but the amount of harassment Kurt had gotten in school from the rest of the kids in the youth group hadn’t been worth it.

“Hey faggot, does your daddy know that you want to lay your body down with other guys?”

“Look at the fairy, who wants to dance like no one’s around. You’d better hope I never see you dancing, or I’ll have to kick your ass, Hummel.”

That was the last time he sang in church.

 

The rest of middle school was hell on wheels for Kurt. His dad was too busy keeping the church going to pay much attention to the bruises he’d come home with. Kurt never mentioned a word about the verbal abuse he endured, figuring his father probably believed being gay was an abomination, too, since the Bible said it. The youth group leader at church didn’t know what to do with Kurt, either. He was essentially ostracized during any group outing. During Wednesday night activities, he would sit in the corner and watch, nose in the air, while the other kids got silly and loud. He preferred to read quietly rather than join in the games. Sunday mornings, Kurt avoided the Sunday school for the kids his age, telling his dad he’d rather listen to the sermon.

No one realized it, but tucked inside Kurt’s Bible case wasn’t actually a Bible. It was frequently the latest Harry Potter book, or a play or musical he’d read about from Broadway. He had memorized enough verses as a child to be able to come up with something religious enough when he was asked a direct question, but for the most part he checked out of anything to do with the church save showing up when he was supposed to.

 

 

 [tg1]<http://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/episodes/the-little-mermaid-from-san-francisco-ballet/watch-the-full-program/1217/>

 


	2. Alone in High School

High school didn’t look like it would be any better for Kurt, either. McKinley High School was a minefield of jocks, cheerleaders, and jerks of all kinds. The kids from church were still there, insulated by the uniforms, letter jackets, and clubs that Kurt wasn’t a part of. He spent his freshman year avoiding crowds, but still getting hit in the face with slushies and tossed into dumpsters regularly. One time, he arrived home from church on Wednesday night to find all the lawn furniture from the backyard nailed to the roof of their house.

His only saving grace was that his childhood friend, Mercedes Jones, was in his grade. She was another pastor’s kid, and although she believed in God and the church far more than he did, she understood his life in a way few others could. Since she’d watched the bullying happen, she also understood why he hadn’t been on stage since that last disastrous offering song had backfired so profoundly. 

One day, in order to get into the building, Kurt had to run through a crowd of basketball players all tossing water balloons at him. What was worse? They were all filled with urine. They pelted him up and down his back, and it splashed up all over the legs of his lavender chinos and he wasn’t able to get it out.

That day, Mercedes sat down next to Kurt at lunch. “Damn, boy, what happened to you?”

“The usual.”

Mercedes sniffed the air. “This ain’t no usual, boy. You smell like a farm.”

“They were a bit more creative than usual, I suppose. They threw pee balloons at me. I did my best to clean up.”

“Eeewwww. Why don’t you just skip class, go home and change?”

“Because if I do that, they’ll call my dad, he might find out what they’re doing, and I’d have to tell him why. I had a clean shirt, I just didn’t bring any pants with me today.”

“Maybe your dad could help?”

Kurt looked at Mercedes’ hopeful face and scoffed, “Nah. If he wanted to, he could have said something these last 15 years of sermons. It’s mostly church members’ kids that are throwing them, y’know.”

“That sucks, Boo. They should know to treat people better than that.”

“Maybe, but they don’t. I’m used to it, I guess. They’ve been that way since I was little.”

Mercedes patted his hand, and Kurt never forgot a set of clothes for his locker after that day, since he needed them more often than not.

 

Another day, later in the year when it was almost summer, Kurt was walking home from the bus stop when he heard loud footsteps running up behind him. Before he knew what was happening, someone had smacked him in the back of the head, and as he stumbled and fell to the ground, he heard cackling laughter and saw a glimpse of red and white letter jackets as the boys ran on by him. He lifted his head a few inches and let it drop back to the ground, too tired to fight back.

The highlight of his year was his 16th birthday, when his dad gave him the keys to a gorgeous, black, Lincoln Navigator. His only caveat was that Kurt needed to stop wearing form-fitting, knee-length sweaters. Kurt didn’t catch the twinkle in Burt’s eye when he said it, but it didn’t matter. What his dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

 

Sophomore year didn’t start out any better than his Freshman year, until the glee club audition sign-ups went up. He thought he’d finally found a place for himself, but then it all fell apart. Now here he was, sitting in the back of youth group yet one more Wednesday night, staring at the book in his bible case, realizing just how much God hates him.

Choosing an audition song had been fairly simple. He had spent the last six years of his life feeling invisible in his own home, in church, and the only people who paid attention to him at all were the people trying to tear him down. _Mr. Cellophane_ from _Chicago_ was the perfect testimony to his invisibility to the people most important to him. It won him a spot in the New Directions, beside four other misfits, including Mercedes.

The first few rehearsals had gone terribly, until Mr. Schuester brought in the head quarterback, the only football player who had been anything resembling kind to Kurt. Finn’s voice was decent, and he was absolutely magnetic to watch. Kurt had begun to hope that maybe New Directions would be able to pull something out, perhaps become something he could be proud of, but of course, it couldn’t last.

Compared to other glee clubs they’d seen, they sucked, and they would have no hope of improving since Mr. Schuester decided to become an accountant and Finn quit the club. Kurt sat there that night struggling to figure out why everything in his life that he enjoyed had to be taken away from him. If God really did exist, he must really hate Kurt Hummel.

Or perhaps not. The next week at school, Finn showed up at a rehearsal Rachel had commanded. Even when Kurt confronted him about all the harassment, Finn apologized for everything, including the pee balloons and lawn furniture, even though he wasn’t there for that one, and it seemed he was genuinely  sorry for all the bullying. He even proposed a revamp of the club, with Mercedes taking over costuming, Rachel doing the choreography, and Finn brought in some good music. When they sang _Don’t Stop Believin’_ that Friday afternoon in costumes, with choreography, Kurt’s heart soared, and he felt like he truly belonged someplace for the first time since his mom died.

Unfortunately, Monday morning was right back into the dumpster, literally. Even with that, Kurt felt a bit more hope, as Finn hadn’t joined the rest of the jocks, so he mustered up the courage himself to tell them off and put them in their place.

****

Kurt realized very quickly that he was terrible at dancing hip hop, which surprised him considering his six years of dance training as a child. He was even worse at trying to act sexy in song. In rehearsal for _Push It_ , the sexy song they chose for the school assembly behind Mr. Schue’s back, Kurt actually fell and landed right on Finn. Finn caught him, and when Kurt looked up at his smiling face and sparkling eyes, something pulled deep inside him and his body reacted. He felt his eyes widen, and he quickly stepped away from Finn in order to try and get his emotions and his body under control.

All that afternoon and evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about his reactions. As much as he was certain that it was beyond his control, that it wasn’t a choice he’d made, he desperately wished he could go back a few days to when he’d never had a physical reaction in the presence of another boy. When it was all in his head, it was one thing, but getting a hard-on while dancing with another boy was a new level of awkward and he kept hearing the voices of those women in the church lobby. _Wrong, sinful, abomination._ What would his dad say if he knew?

It didn’t stop him from sneaking glances at Finn out of the corner of his eyes during the actual performance, though, and even slapping Finn on the ass once. He just couldn’t help himself. Everyone was in character, acting so bold and sexy, that Kurt didn’t want to resist the impulse. He could feel the imprint of Finn’s ass for the rest of the day, and it was equal parts joyous and mortifying.

Kurt went home that evening and lay down, staring at his bedroom ceiling, wondering how his dad would react if he ever found out, grateful that he worked so much that he would probably never know.

 

***

 

The student body couldn’t stop talking about how crazy their performance was, but glee club’s big hit was in actual fact a disaster, since Principal Figgins slammed a ton of restrictions on them right afterwards. The list of songs he approved for glee to perform looked a lot like the list of songs Kurt had to choose from when he’d sing at his dad’s church. It was like he was haunted by those restrictions wherever he went.  

The sectionals competition was in the forefront of the kids’ minds, as it was coming up quickly, but Mr. Schuester was more interested in his new acapella singing group than in leading the glee club. The kids were on their own to find a way to rehearse for the upcoming sectionals. Rachel and the other girls decided to try and hire Dakota Stanley, the choreographer for the National Champion show choir from Akron, Vocal Adrenaline. Finn got really upset with everyone and threatened to quit over it.

Kurt and Mercedes stuck together through it all. They continued to hang out both at school and outside of school, watching movies at home or shopping for bargains at the mall. One day in the hallway between classes, Kurt was caught by surprise as Mercedes asked him, “Have you ever kissed anybody?”

She sounded casual, but Kurt knew her too well to believe it was a random question.

“Yes,” Kurt responded carefully, watching her eyes, “if by someone you mean the tender crook of my elbow.” He chuckled a little out of nervousness.

Mercedes looked up at him with a look of longing on her face.

“Don’t you want to, though? Don’t you ever sit and wonder what it would be like?”

Kurt took a long look at his best friend. She was staring at Puck and Santana making out across the hallway. Ahhh. Was that it?

“Don’t even think about it, lady. We are on the bottom of the social heap and they are on top. The only consolation we have is that we are superior to them in every way and one day they will work for us. Now, what are you planning to wear tomorrow on our trip to Akron? How about we hit the mall after school?” He offered her his arm and they walked down the hall together. Mercedes leaned her head on his shoulder. Kurt felt very satisfied that Mercedes was focusing on something other than dating a football player.

 

***

While they were out shopping for the perfect outfit, they visited every store at the Lima mall looking for just the right color and just the right fit for Mercedes’ frame. Every time Kurt complimented her, her eyes widened a bit and she’d look away.

He even caught a deep blush on her cheeks when he told her how fantastic her figure looked in a dark purple, long-sleeved wrap dress.  

“Mercedes, you _have_ to buy this one. You are gorgeous!”

“Aww, you’re just sayin’ that.”

“Seriously. Hottest woman at McKinley, babe. I’m just sayin’!”

They walked hand-in-hand out of the store, Kurt carrying the bag with the dress, matching lacey tights, and a gorgeous pair of ankle boots that “really show off those calves, girl! Trust me. Gorgeous!”

Mercedes commented on the way out, “I can’t wear that fancy dress to Carmel, though, Kurt. No way.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s try Wet Seal. They have some adorable outfits this season.”

After visiting two more stores, they came up with a fantastic combination of a black tee, denim jeans with suspenders, and a crocheted blue pageboy cap. They held hands all the way back to the parking lot, Mercedes grinning ten miles wide as she said, “Kurt, I’m so glad we’re spending so much time together. Nobody else gets what it’s like to be a pastor’s kid except you.”

That night, his dad was actually home in time to eat dinner with Kurt and it wasn’t even a Friday. They sat in uncomfortable silence, each waiting for the other to start a conversation, but neither did.

*****

The glee club all rode with Kurt to Carmel because his car was the largest one of the bunch. When Mercedes stepped out of it, she said “Damn, Kurt, this car is fly.”

They chatted while they walked, again arm-in-arm, towards the school and Kurt returned her compliment by telling her “Your outfit is amazing.”

She asked if he wanted to hang out, so he invited her to come over and watch Liza Minelli week with him, but before they could set up a time, Rachel interrupted rudely, as usual.

They discovered that if they wanted to hire a good choreographer, they were going to need to raise a lot of money. The Cheerios in glee club managed to get the rest of the cheerleaders to join forces with them to put on a car wash.

Kurt knew Finn would be at there, so he chose his outfit carefully. He selected a white-collared, green button-down with a black bowtie, black chinos, and wore his perfectly tailored rain coat over the top so his outfit wouldn’t get destroyed by the water. He was completely overdressed, considering the Cheerios were all in swimsuits, but Mercedes looked fly in a black bodysuit with a red jacket. She looked like she was trying to impress someone just as much as Kurt was, and he wondered who she had her eye on, since Puck was nowhere to be seen.

While they were washing cars, he stuck close to Mercedes. They were laughing and joking and generally being silly together, giggling at the antics of the guys ogling the bikini-clad Cheerios. Some of the football players came back to get their cars washed multiple times.

Kurt felt much safer away from the popular crowd and staying with his best friend until she made it clear that she meant for _Kurt_ to be her boyfriend.

“Kurt, we have so much fun together. We hang out all the time. Why don’t we make it official?”

“Make what official?”

“That we’re dating, silly!”

Kurt panicked. He spit out the first thing that popped into his head. “But, I can’t date you. I’m in love with someone else.”

Thank goodness Rachel stepped in between his eyes and Finn’s body at that moment or everything would have been out in the open. It was even worth the broken window on his car and his dad’s anger when he found out, because no one had discovered his secret.

That night, when he lay in bed staring at the ceiling for the umpteenth time, he wondered exactly what it would have been like if he’d had time to think or formulate a response before he’d just reacted. He’d never imagined Mercedes, his best friend since they were kids, as a love interest. He tried that night. What might it be like to kiss her? What would her full lips feel like? Could he ever see her that way? Could he ever see any girl that way?

He remembered the imprint of Finn’s ass on his hand, how it felt so right and so beautifully perfect, so incredible, and then tried to imagine his hand anywhere on Mercedes’s body other than her arm or shoulder. He just couldn’t do it. He utterly failed at seeing her as anything but the little girl he grew up with at the community church functions where their dads worked.

Maybe that was the problem, that he’d known her too long and too well. Maybe if he tried imagining another girl that way, it would work. He closed his eyes and tried to picture someone, anyone, as the object of his affections. It went nowhere. He kept coming back to Finn, tall, handsome Finn. Finn, who was equally clueless and kind. Finn with the gorgeous brown eyes. Kurt had a thing for brown-eyed boys. Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom and Taylor Lautner were in his top five most gorgeous list, as well as Sean Farris. Farris was even from Ohio. Kurt had dreams of accidently running into him at the mall during a holiday hiatus.

Dammit. He was back thinking about boys again, when he was supposed to be picturing girls. He was hopeless.

\-----------------------

 

“Dude, I don’t know what we’re gonna do! How could Coach just bench him like that?”

Kurt’s ears perked up as he overheard Finn lamenting to another football player at lunch.

“Well, he hasn’t hit a single field goal all season. What else was he supposed to do?”

“No one else on the team can kick, either, though. Now what are we gonna do Friday night if we score a touchdown?” Finn continued.

“When was the last time we even got near the end zone? Give it up Hudson. We all suck.”

Kurt couldn’t help but start thinking about the time his dad mentioned thinking he’d be able to watch his son playing in football games. He was pretty sure that all the ballet training he’d done as a child had left him with leg muscles strong enough to kick a ball. Maybe he’d finally have something he could do that would help him and his dad finally connect.

Kurt saw his opportunity to approach Finn that afternoon in glee club. After another one of Rachel’s epic storm-outs, he pulled Finn aside.

“Finn, I need to ask you something.”

“Thanks, but I already have a date to the prom.  But I’m flattered. I know how important dances are to teen gays.”

Kurt heart plummeted. _Was he so obvious that even Mr. Oblivious himself had picked up on it?_ _Damage control!_ “I’m not gay!”

“Oh.”

“I just needed a favor.”

“From me?”

“Yes, Finn. From you.” Kurt rolled his eyes. He continued on, in a slightly less snarky voice.  “You’re on the football team, and I understand you need a kicker. I happen to have excellent legs.”

Finn put his hands up and took a step back. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, man.”

Kurt snapped. “Listen, Finn. Whatever you and those Neanderthals think you know about me doesn’t matter. What I know about me is that I can do it, but no one is going to let me try out without your help. Will you help me or not?”

“Fine dude, whatever. You sure you can kick a field goal?”

“I’ve never actually tried it, but I’m pretty sure I can do it. I just need someone to show me how to set it up and let me try.”

They headed out to the football field since rehearsal had ended with Rachel’s storm-out. Kurt brought along his boom-box and began warming up by dancing along to Beyonce’s _Single Ladies._ Finn rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything other than “Keep your eye on the ball and don’t try to aim it.”

Kurt’s first kick went right through the middle of the goal posts. So did his second.

“Let’s move it farther back. Let’s see how much power you have.”

Finn set up the ball on the 50 yard line and Kurt hit play on his music. When Beyonce got to the “oh”s, Kurt made contact with the ball and it soared through the goal posts one more time. Finn grabbed Kurt, picked him up off the ground and spun him around.

“That was amazing! You’re amazing, man!!!”

Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair. “Thanks, Finn. So that was good?”

Finn set Kurt back on the ground, but kept his arms wrapped around him.

“Good? You’re incredible!” At that moment, a look of realization passed Finn’s features and he dropped his arms to his sides in two seconds flat. “So, um, yeah. You should totally try out, dude.”

Kurt, still blushing, murmured, “Thanks, Finn. I’ll see you after school tomorrow, then.”

 

The next day, Kurt arrived at football practice to show everyone what he could do. Finn nearly blew a gasket when he realized Kurt was planning to try out with his music, but Kurt responded, cool as a cucumber, “My body is like a rum chocolate soufflé. If I don’t warm it up right, it doesn’t rise.  If I’m doing this, I’m doing it my way.”

Coach Tanaka was ecstatic to have a kicker that could nail a 60 yard field goal, and told Kurt he didn’t care how he got the ball up there, as long as the kick was good. Kurt even managed to get him to agree to the idea of the football team learning some dance conditioning, as well.  When Mr. Schuester tried to teach them how to dance, he ended up calling Kurt to the front to do it himself. Maybe, just maybe, he could make this work.

 

Friday night, Kurt suited up for his first game as a McKinley Titan.

His dad was in the stands watching him play. Kurt couldn’t contain his excitement at getting to make his dad proud. He jumped up and down waving at his dad, trying to attract his attention. Burt just looked uncomfortable. He sat in the stands and watched until the final seconds of the game ticked down, and McKinley scored their first touchdown of the season to tie the game after using Kurt’s song and dance routine that he’d taught them in practice.

Kurt stepped up to kick the first extra point of his football career, and when the ball went through the uprights, he could see his dad, jumping up and down and shouting “That’s my boy!! That’s my boy!” Kurt felt the tears streaming down his face as he realized he had made his dad proud again, this time for something other than singing words he didn’t believe.

 

Later that evening, his dad walked in on him as he worked his way through his evening moisturizing routine.

Quickly, before his dad could say anything, Kurt blurted, “Nighttime skincare is a big part of my post-game ritual.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but, um, I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt. I wish your mom would have been there. I mean, alive.”

“Thanks,” Kurt replied, looking back at his dad in the mirror, tears in his eyes.

As Burt turned to go upstairs, Kurt said, “Dad?”

Burt turned back, poised to listen.

“I have something that I want to say. I’m glad that you’re proud of me. But I don’t want to lie anymore. Being a part of the glee club and football has shown me that I can be anything, and what I am is . . .”

Kurt paused.

Burt waited, an expectant look on this face.

He just couldn’t do it.  “I’m a dancer. I really want to go back to ballet classes. Can I? Please?”

Burt’s face fell, and Kurt looked down, knowing he’d disappointed his dad, asking for something so girly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Never mind.”

“What? No, bud that’s fine. If you want to dance, you dance. If you want to sing, you sing. You are who God made you to be, bud.”

Kurt scrambled to let his dad off the hook. “But we can’t afford it, can we?”

“Of course we can. I’ll make it work.”

“But you don’t have time to bring me, do you?”

“Hey, I bought you that car for your sixteenth birthday, remember? You can drive yourself, now.”

Kurt let his eyes rise up from the floor. “Do you mean it, dad? Really? You’d let me dance again?”

Burt smiled sadly. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You are who God made you to be, bud. My job is to help you get there. Proverbs 22:6, remember?”

Kurt sighed. “Train up a child in the way they should go and when they are old they will not depart from it. Got it.”

“If God created you to dance, then you dance. When do classes start?”

************

Over the weekend, Kurt found himself on Mercedes’ doorstep, hoping against hope that she’d talk to him. Her father opened the door.

“Good morning, Kurt! How are you doing?”

“Just fine, Pastor Jones. How are you?”

“Blessed, young man, blessed. God is good!”

Kurt knew he was supposed to respond with “All the time” but he couldn’t muster up the platitude. “Yes, sir. Is Mercedes home?”

“Of course, of course. She’s in the family room. Come on in.”

Kurt walked through the entryway and down the hall into the living area of the Jones’ home. Mercedes had earbuds in her ears while she was reading something on the couch. Kurt walked over to put himself in her line of sight.

She looked up at him, startled, her eyes wide. She sat up straighter, put her feet flat on the floor, and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Cedes.”

“Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t read what was going on in her mind. This girl who had been an open book to him for so long closed herself down entirely.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

They both said it at exactly the same time.

“What are you apologizing for?” asked Kurt.

“I smashed the window of your car. I’m pretty sure that’s worth an apology.” Mercedes looked past him instead of at him, still stiff, back rigid.

“I led you on. I think I deserved it, in hindsight,” Kurt said.

“You’re damn right you did. What the heck, Kurt?”

“Honestly? I had no idea you had feelings for me, Cedes. Dammit, can you at least look at me?”

Finally, her eyes focused on his and he could see the wariness in them. The trust and love he usually saw there was gone.

“I really am sorry. It would never work out, anyway.”

“Why not, though? I don’t get it! We both love music and fashion. We both love God and go to the same kind of church. It’s not like you’re an atheist or something.”

There it was. His out. “Actually, Mercedes, I haven’t believed in God for a long time. I still go to church because my dad would be devastated if he found out, but I really don’t believe at all.”

“Oh Kurt,” Mercedes started, her eyes filling with tears. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

He continued looking at her in silence, and noticed the moment she realized he was telling the truth.

“You really don’t believe anymore?”

“Not at all. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, but we really wouldn’t ever work out, Mercedes. You’re my little sister, my best friend, my platonic soulmate, but not my girlfriend. I’m sorry.”

“You’re my best friend, too, Kurt. Forever?”

“Forever and always, no matter what.”

“Now sit down and tell me all about Rachel. You’re in love with her? For real?”

Kurt laughed and they settled on the couch, back to their old connection like there had never been a break. He was relieved to be able to tell her that he’d lied about being in love to avoid confessing his change of heart about God, and they spent the rest of the morning dishing about Rachel's annoying habits. Kurt was grateful he didn’t have to tell her about his feelings for Finn in the process.

 

 

**********

 

“Rachel Berry is going to be the death of the glee club, I swear.” Mercedes was ranting into Kurt’s ear through his phone.

“Now what has she done?”

“She quit for real this time. She is going to sing the lead in the school musical.”

“Well, maybe that means the rest of us will be able to get a solo for once. We’ll be fine without her.”

“We’ll see, little preacher boy, we’ll see.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at the nickname as he tucked his phone in his pocket and slid into his seat for third hour. Rick “The Stick” Nelson, one of the jocks strode by him and bumped into Kurt’s shoulder with his elbow hard enough that Kurt was sure he’d have a bruise in the morning. Kurt sighed. Even after kicking the winning point in Friday’s game, he was still on the bottom of the high school totem pole.

“What’s your problem, homo?” asked Rick.

Kurt ignored him and waited for the teacher to get off her computer and start teaching class.

 

 

That afternoon in glee club, Mr. Schuester brought in a ringer to replace Rachel. A forty-year-old ringer. Unbelievable. The woman was an absolute embarrassment. She drew even more attention to the fact that the glee club was on the bottom of the ladder. She was drunk all the time and she was loud. She was an idiot.

But then, she gave Kurt a couple of tips. She suggested he start his day with a few drinks, and she gave him a pile of muscle man magazines to go along with the alcohol. She told him he could have the confidence he needed to be himself all day long at school. Unfortunately, the first time he tried her advice, he vomited all over Miss Pillsbury. The school called his dad, who came over from the church to pick him up since he was too drunk to drive home by himself. Kurt passed out as soon as he got home, but he couldn’t avoid the conversation with his dad the next morning.

 

“What on God’s green earth were you thinking, Kurt?”

Kurt winced. His dad had that preacher yell down to a science after so many years of practice. With the pounding in his head and the turmoil in his stomach, Kurt could barely talk, much less think. “I don’t really know, dad.”

“Where did you even get the alcohol?  Lord knows we don’t have it in the house.”

“I got it from a friend at school,” Kurt admitted, looking down at the floor in shame. “She said it would help me feel more confident, so I tried it.”

Burt put his hand tenderly under Kurt’s chin. “Hey buddy, look at me.”

Kurt raised his head, chin quivering.

“Kurt, I don’t know what you were thinking. Haven’t I always told you are perfect, just the way God made you?” Burt continued, “You don’t need drugs or alcohol or anything else to make you better than you already are, because you’re perfect.”

Kurt scoffed. “Right. God don’t make no junk.”

“That’s right.”

“Guess what Dad, sometimes? Sometimes God makes mistakes.” With that, Kurt got up from the kitchen table and went downstairs to his bedroom in the basement, slamming the door behind him.

Burt stayed at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, praying silently for wisdom.

 

The next week, when Mr. Schuester’s wife was passing out vitamin D, Kurt decided not to take any. He didn’t ever want to see that kind of disappointment on his dad’s face again.

 

Several weeks later, Coach Tanaka lay down a new rule. The guys on the football team had to spend more time together to bond, so they all had to choose between football and glee club’s Thursday rehearsal. Kurt watched throughout the week as the other boys that were in both glee and football struggled over what to do.

Wednesday evening, his dad dragged him to youth group at church, as usual, and he pulled out his Bible case with his homework assignment for AP English 10 tucked into it instead of his Bible. He smirked at the irony of reading Dante’s _Inferno_ while being preached at by the youth group leader about how gay people were going to hell. _I wonder which level of hell I’ll get to stop at? Will I get special dispensation for being a pastor’s kid, with all the time I’ve spent in church?_

On the ride home that night, Kurt was silent, as usual, while his dad drove. Burt, however, kept trying to strike up a conversation with him. “So, how was practice this week?”

“What practice?”

“Football? Glee? Whatever you want to talk about.”

“Well, football is fine. Glee sucks.”

“Language, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed. It’s not like sucks was even half as bad as what he heard at school all day. “Fine. Glee has been ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“Well, Coach Tanaka told us that we can’t go to our extra glee rehearsals on Thursdays anymore if we want to be on the football team.” Kurt stared out the window at the houses going by, wondering why his dad cared all of a sudden. “Everyone in Glee is sure that we’ll all choose football, so they’re all morose and counting the days until the demise of the club.”

“Are they right?”

Kurt glanced over at his dad, but his eyes were still looking straight out the windshield.

“What do you mean, are they right?”

“Are all of you going to quit the glee club?”

Kurt pondered the question for a few seconds. “I probably will, I guess.”

Burt’s eyebrows raised. “Really? I thought you loved dancing and singing.”

“I do, but . . .” Kurt trailed off as he realized how close he came to admitting to his dad how much he wanted his approval.

“But what, son?”

“But I like football, too, I guess.”

Burt snorted. “Since when? Do you remember, right after your mom died, when you sat down with me and tried to understand football?”

“Of course. That was when you told me you wished I was a football player.”

“What? I never said any such thing.”

“Sure you did. You said you always thought you’d get to see me play football someday. Now you can.”

Burt pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. He turned to look at Kurt full on in the face. “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Is that why you joined the football team? Because you thought I wanted you to?”

“Not the only reason, but it’s part of it. Also, I kick ass at it.”

“Language, Kurt.”

“Sorry.”

“Seriously, Kurt. You don’t have to play football just because of me,” Burt said. “I was so proud of you when you kicked that winning extra point, Bud, but I’ll be just as proud of you when I watch you sing a solo at regionals or dance at a recital in the spring.”

“Really?”

“Really. Go to glee club tomorrow afternoon. Be yourself, bud.”

 

Kurt announced to the football team the next day in the showers that he would be resigning to return to glee club. It didn’t take long for Finn to show up with a grape slushie to toss in his face, but Kurt took it for the team. It didn’t matter anymore. His dad was proud of him, no matter what.

 

 

Kurt put his dad to the test not even a week later, when Mr. Schuester wouldn’t even give him the chance to audition for a song from his absolute favorite musical of all time – “Defying Gravity” from _Wicked._ Kurt stood up in rehearsal and asked directly for a chance to audition, and Mr. Schuester shot him down. Kurt was so upset he went to the church after school and brought doughnuts to his dad to share in his office.

“What’s up with you, today?”

“I’m fine.”

Burt just looked at Kurt with one eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry. It’s a glee club thing. We’re doing this amazing song for sectionals, a personal favorite of mine, and Mr. Schuester won’t give me a chance to sing it.”

Burt’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“It’s traditionally sung by a girl.” Kurt kept a tight smile on his face as he said it.

“Wait, you sing like a girl, you know, in a good way.”

Kurt nodded.

“Look, Kurt, I don’t know how school music stuff works, but isn’t there more crossover nowadays? Didn’t that girl from your school just join the wrestling team?”

“Yes,” Kurt said. “But her parents had to sue the school.”

“This is really getting you down, isn’t it?” asked Burt.

“I’m full of ennui.”

“So it’s really getting you down, then?”

“Yes.”

 

The next thing Kurt knew, his dad was in Mr. Figgins’s office chewing out Mr. Schuester and getting Kurt the chance to audition for “Defying Gravity”.

Kurt made the rest of the club swear to vote for whoever sang the song better, and then got down to practicing.

That afternoon, he drove as fast as he could over to the church office.

“Dad, Dad! I hit it! I hit the high F! The magic note I need for “Defying Gravity”! I hit it! That means I’m gonna win!”

“That’s great, Kurt. Good for you.” His dad slammed a bunch of papers around on his desk without looking at Kurt. Kurt realized at that moment something was really upsetting his dad.

“What’s going on?”

“I got a phone call this morning from “a concerned parishioner”. The anonymous kind. It was some guy telling me my son is a fag, an abomination.”

Kurt shrank back. This was his worst nightmare come true. He was sure this was the end of the line. His dad would blast him and life as he knew it would be over.

“Look Kurt, I don’t want you to get hurt just because you’re singing a song in Glee club. Are people harassing you at school, bud?”

“You don’t want me to audition for the solo?”

“That’s not what I said. Let me be clear: No one pushes the Hummels around, especially lying cowards on the phone.” Burt’s eyes started to tear up. “Sometimes, I just wish your mom was still around, ya know? She was better at handling this kind of thing, handling me.”

Kurt nodded. He understood completely. If his mom was still alive, his dad wouldn’t stick around. He’d let her deal with Kurt and he’d be happier, not having a kid around to screw up his reputation.

“Anyway, congratulations on the Kool-Aid or Hi-C or whatever.”

“High F.”

“Yeah, that.”

His dad walked out of the office, and Kurt knew exactly what he needed to do.

 

That evening, when Kurt saw his dad again, the first thing he heard was “So how did your try-out thingie go?”

“Rachel got the part.”

“What? Did that Schuester character rig it so you wouldn’t get it? I’ll head over to his office right now and go deal with it.”

Kurt put his hands up. “Dad, no. I blew the note.”

Burt whipped his head around to look at Kurt. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I blew the note, Dad. I didn’t want to win.”

 “So after all I did to make sure you’d get a fair shake, you decided to throw the competition anyway? What on earth were you thinking, bud? Why would you do that?”

Kurt couldn’t look his dad in the eye as he tried to explain. “I just kept thinking about that phone call you got. Don’t you think it would be even worse if I got up and sang a girl’s song in front of a thousand people?”

Burt’s eyes filled with tears. “You gave it up on my account?”

“Dad, don’t you get it?” Kurt asked. “Yes, I love singing and I want to be a star, but I love you more than I want to be a star.”

Kurt found himself wrapped up in his dad’s arms. “You are so much like your mother, Buddy. I love you. Forever and always, no matter what. Don’t you ever forget that.”

In his head, all Kurt could think was _Do you really? If you really knew me, would you still love me?_


	3. Coming Out

The ramp up to sectionals was crazy. Mr. Schuester invited the competition to come and perform at McKinley, and the glee club recorded a commercial for a local mattress store. Despite Mr. Schuester being disqualified and the competition somehow deciding to do every single song that New Directions had planned, they were still able to pull it out and win, thank to Finn stepping up.

Despite Kurt’s best efforts, Finn was still interested in Rachel, not him. Kurt had had the brilliant idea of dressing Rachel up like Cat Woman, à la Sandy from Grease, knowing full well that Finn preferred a more wholesome look for his girlfriends.  Rachel almost figured out why he did it, but she was so upset when he threw out, “I just wanted to remind him that his girlfriend is pregnant and he has a moral obligation to take care of her, not you!” that she let go of the idea that he might be gay. Sometimes, being known as a pastor’s kid came in handy.

Kurt’s proudest moment came not when they handed the trophy to New Directions, but when he looked out into the audience, seeing his father standing and cheering just as hard as he had when Kurt kicked the winning point at the football game.

After the competition, the club decided to go out to eat to celebrate. Finn was there with his mom, even though he stayed away from the majority of the group. Kurt’s dad came for a little while, but left early to make final preparations for his sermon for the next morning. After he said goodbye to his dad, Kurt approached Finn’s table.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Kurt, have you met my mom? Mom, this is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is my mom, Carole.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Hudson.”

 “Kurt, nice to meet you. Please, call me Carole.”

Kurt looked over at Finn. “Thanks for coming in to save the day, today. We were all freaking out until you got there.”

Finn smiled sweetly. “It was no problem, man. I’m glad things worked out.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. . . Carole.”

Carole smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you, too, Kurt.”

 

Such a simple interchange. A quick thank you. Kurt couldn’t get it out of his head. When Finn smiled at him, it had warmed Kurt from deep inside his gut. Finn’s mom was so kind. She was a single parent raising a son, just like his dad. Kurt’s brain started turning.

 

Parent-teacher conference night was the following week. Kurt went with his dad to help him find his way to all of Kurt’s teachers, and was pleasantly surprised to see Carole Hudson walk through the door.

“Dad! Come here. There is someone I want you to meet!” Kurt grabbed his dad’s arm and dragged him towards Mrs. Hudson. “Burt Hummel? This is Carole Hudson. You both have dead spouses. You should talk.”

It didn’t take long for Burt and Carole to become fast friends, then to start dating and finally to begin discussing a more permanent relationship. Finn practically blew a gasket when he realized that Kurt had introduced their parents without talking to him first, but it was even worse when they started talking about marriage. Finn and Kurt went downstairs to Kurt’s room while their parents were cooking Friday Night Dinner.

 “Shouldn’t we at least try living in the same house before they get married? What the hell?”

Kurt scoffed. “Seriously, Finn? My dad’s a Baptist pastor. He’s not going to live with his girlfriend without marrying her.”

“Whoa, dude. He’s a pastor? How did I not know that?”

Kurt glared at Finn. “Perhaps because you don’t pay the slightest bit of attention to anything that doesn’t involve you?”

“That’s totally not fair. I thought my girlfriend was pregnant with my baby. My best friend turned out to have knocked her up. Despite all that I still showed up and saved your asses at sectionals.”

Kurt replied, “Well, yes, you did have a bit going on in your world. I suppose a little self-centeredness would be expected in your situation.”

“Whatever, dude. I can’t believe my mom is going to be a pastor’s wife. That’s so weird. Where am I even going to sleep?”

“There really aren’t a lot of options in our house. Pretty much your choices are the living room couch or my bedroom. We can easily put –“

“NO WAY. I can’t sleep in the same room as you! Are you nuts? Look at this place! You’re totally going to be staring at me all the time. This is crazy.”

Finn stormed up the stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Mom, we need to talk!”

After Finn declared that he couldn’t sleep in that “faggy room”, Carole quickly grabbed him and made an exit, yelling at him the whole way out the front door. “Finn Christopher Hudson, how dare you use that word? Haven’t I taught you better than that?”

Kurt stood in the doorway to his bedroom, looking stunned, as the whole scene went down. His father looked absolutely gutted as he watched his girlfriend and her son storm out of the house.

Burt looked over at Kurt and said, “Well, that could have gone better.”

Kurt snorted, turned and went back down into his room and shut the door.

 

A bit later that evening, Burt knocked on Kurt’s door. “Can I come in, bud?”

Kurt sat up from where he was trying to read his English assignment, hoping that he wouldn’t have to have this conversation. He certainly didn’t want to discuss why Finn called him faggy, but it looked like he had no choice. “Yeah, dad. Come on in.”

“Well, so much for a family dinner, huh?”

Kurt snorted.  “So much for your new family?”

Burt looked wounded. “ _My_ new family?”

“Well, _I’m_ not asking for one.”

Burt sat down on Kurt’s bed. “C’mon, bud. You introduced us. You set us up. What’s all this now?”

Kurt stood up and moved across the room with his back to his father. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize you were going to go from introductions to marriage in under two months, Dad.”

“When you know, Kurt, you just know. It was six months with your mom. It’s been two with Carole. I don’t know how to describe it to you.”

Kurt whirled around. “How about _I really want to get laid, Kurt, but the bible says I can’t so I need to marry her?”_

“Hey, that’s uncalled for,” Burt bellowed.

“I call it like I see it, Dad,” Kurt retorted.

“What is your deal lately? What happened to my little angel boy, Kurt?”

“I grew up, Dad. I learned a few things about the way the world works.” Kurt stomped up the stairs, grabbed his car keys, and took off.

Once again, Burt Hummel found himself on his knees, praying for guidance from his Lord.

 

*********

Despite the tumult of their family dinner attempt, Burt and Carole continued to date, but talks of a whirlwind marriage went by the wayside. Finn avoided Kurt at school as much as possible, if only because he was afraid Kurt might pull out a swatch board and ask him about color schemes for their room, or start serenading him in public.

Their next attempt at a family dinner was at Breadsticks, and Burt made some attempts to get to know Finn a little better. It wasn’t long before sharing football stories and offers of tickets made Finn open up and smile. Kurt, however, began to realize just how much Finn was like the boy he could never be.

The conversation in his bedroom that night went even worse than the last one, but this time it was Burt walking away after Kurt asked him to leave. The next afternoon at school, Kurt found Finn in the hallway and they made a pact to break up their parents, once and for all.

A few days after that, Kurt waited outside the side door of Finn and Carole’s house, watching his dad talk to Finn and profess his undying love for Carole, calling her an angel from God to wake him up and make his life better, and promising to take care of her and be her hero. Finn, the traitor, invited Burt to sit in his dad’s chair and watch a game. Defeated and in tears, Kurt turned and went home, alone.

He sat in his room, reflecting on the week. “A little guy talk . . . I am a guy. Mom’s been dead eight years, but he still doesn’t know me at all. _‘I thought you said you wanted me to be happy’_ . . .Well that was before I knew you being happy would rip out my heart and stomp all over it. You love her? She’s an angel? What about Mom, Dad? What about me? We were your angels.”

Kurt punched his pillow, rolled over, and cried himself to sleep.

**********

Kurt was astounded when his Dad caught his attention in the school hallway not even a week later. “Hey, Kurt!”

“Dad? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I’m here to pick up Finn. A member of the congregation scored me a couple tickets to the Reds game and Carole told me Finn’s never been to a major league game.”

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Kurt wondered out loud.

Burt laughed in his face. “Are you kidding me? You hate baseball. Every time I sit down to watch a game you complain about their uniforms.”

Kurt was stunned. The next thing he knew, Finn was waving at Burt from the crowd, his dad was saying he’d be home at midnight, and he was left alone, again.

The assignment in glee club that week was to find a song that represented his voice. Kurt selected one of his dad’s favorites in an attempt to try and connect with him. He chose clothes like Finn’s, a hat like his dad’s and consciously tried to speak in a lower voice in an attempt to be more of a man’s man. After he finished performing his song, Brittany approached him and offered to let him “tap this” since he wasn’t “capital G gay” like she thought.

Well, that would be one way to make his dad forget the word faggy. He invited her over to their house after school and brought her down to his bedroom in the basement, leaving a sign on the door for his dad. He lit candles around the room and turned on some French music, attempting to make the scene as romantic as possible, even if romance with Brittany didn’t seem at all possible to him. They snuggled in on his couch, her legs tucked under his, him on his back, her next to him, leaning over the top of his chest. She dove right in and started kissing him.

Kurt tried desperately to get her to keep her hands to herself while trying not to imagine he was kissing a boy. Instead, her hands kept wandering down his hips towards his ass and he kept getting distracted by her lip gloss, which tasted like root beer. Eventually, he couldn’t help himself and he asked her “What do boys lips taste like?”

When his dad got home, the sign on Kurt’s door didn’t keep him out. Instead, his dad barged into his room asking questions.

Kurt interrupted him. “Uh, Dad, I really need you to respect my privacy right now. Brittany and I were just about to have sexual relations.”

Burt waved Kurt over to the other side of the room. “What the heck do you think you are doing? It is absolutely unacceptable for you to be having sex with a girl in my house.  The Bible says it is to be reserved for the marriage bed only.”

Kurt responded, “Dad, you and I have more in common that I would have thought. The flannel, the Mellencamp, the ladies . . .”

Burt interrupted, “Be that as it may, whoever you think you are this week, you are not to have sex in this house.”

Kurt smiled. “I guess we can head over to her house then. Good bye.”

Kurt offered his hand to Brittany and they walked up the stairs, while his dad stared in stunned silence.

The next day, his dad showed up at school again. Kurt and Brittany were walking down the hall, hand-in-hand. Of course, he wasn’t there to see Kurt. He was there to take Finn out for hoagies.

“Can you excuse us a minute, Boo?” Kurt asked.

Brittany looked confused. “What?”

“Just go away.”

Kurt glared at his father. “Didn’t you think that might be something I might want to do with you?” The anger started bubbling up so fast Kurt could barely contain it.

“Look, Kurt. Finn really needs this right now. He really needs to talk about his dad with someone. It’s a really good thing for him.” Burt clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, I’ll hang out with you as much as you want, just not tonight.”

Kurt walked off, and found his way to the auditorium. He sat for a minute on the edge of the stage before tossing off the hat and vest he had so carefully chosen that morning. He stood up and imagined himself dressed in his usual style, with a blue button down, a gorgeous silk scarf wrapped around his neck, and tight plaid pants.

_All that work and what did it get me,_

_I had a dream._

_I dreamed it for you, Dad._

_It wasn’t for me, Dad._

_Well, someone tell me, when is it my turn?_

_Don’t I get a dream for myself?_

_Starting now it’s gonna be my turn,_

_This one’s for me!_

 

Kurt had no idea his dad watched the entire performance until he started applauding in the dark auditorium.

“That was some serious singing, kid!”

“That was Rose’s Turn.”

Burt walked up the stairs onto the other side of the stage. “I could get into that, maybe.”

Kurt, still breathing heavily from his exertion on the stage, had to ask, “Dad, what are you doing here? What happened to the hoagies?”

“I blew it off, you know, too much cholesterol.”

Kurt pulled his face into a tight smile. “Finn must have been disappointed.””

“He understood, once I told him how bent out of shape you were about it.”

“Me?” Kurt took a deep breath and shimmied his shoulders.  “I’m fine.”

“Kurt, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid. I might have some idea what that song was about, but I know this for sure, fine does not sing like you just sang that.”

Kurt held in a sob while his dad took a step closer, hands opened out and down to his sides.

“I know that you’re upset about me doing stuff with Finn, but I think there’s more to it than that.”

Kurt stared at him in silence.

“Look, Kurt, when you were a baby, I dreamed about taking you to games and talking to you about girls. Of course I did. A lot of fathers do.”

Kurt snapped, “I had no idea how disappointing I was,” as he whirled around to storm away from his father once again.

“Hey now, stop it right now. I’m talking straight to you. Don’t go playing the victim.”

Kurt turned back, an angry glare in his eyes with tears streaming down his face. “Straight? You’re talking straight to me, Dad? The hell with you. I’m not straight, Dad. I’m gay. I’m an abomination. Go find your new son, your better son, your normal son, your easy son. I’ll be moved out when you get home.”

Burt stood there with a stunned look on his face, watching as Kurt turned his back to him and sobbed. He stepped closer, raised his hands as if to put them around Kurt but then dropped them back to his sides. He said brokenly, “Kurt.”

Kurt whispered through his tears, “Goodbye, Dad.”

“No, Kurt. You listen to me.” Burt put his hands on Kurt’s shoulders from behind. “I’ve known you were gay since you were three years old. Your mom told me. She was so sure. She was so good with you.”

“You knew?” Kurt turned around slowly, his dad’s arms wrapping around him.

“Of course I knew. All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels. You’ve been dancing ballet since you were two. Until that daffy cheerleader showed up, I’d never seen you take an interest in girls.”

Kurt huffed into his dad’s shoulder. “Brittany. I was trying so hard, Dad. I wanted to be what you wanted me to be.”

“Hey, you don’t ever have to change anything for me, Kurt. Your job is to be yourself,” Burt paused. “And my job is to love you, no matter what. That, and our salvation in Jesus Christ? That’s all we’ve got.”

The two men stood eye to eye in the darkened auditorium, tears streaming down their faces.

Burt continued, “If we stick together, kid, we’re gonna be great.”

Kurt sniffled. “I missed you, Daddy.”

“Come here.” Burt wrapped Kurt in a giant bear hug. “I love you. Forever and always. No matter what.”

Kurt began sobbing again. Through his tears, he said “I love you, too, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

“No need for sorrys, kid. Let’s move on.”

***************

Once his dad knew his biggest secret, Kurt no longer felt the need to hide at school, either. The first person he came out to officially was Mercedes. One day at lunch, he pulled her aside.

“Hey, Cedes. Can you come to the choir room with me? I’ve got something I want to try.”

“Sure, Kurt. Let me grab a tray and I’ll meet you there.”

A few short minutes later, and Kurt was sitting at the piano working on his scales when Mercedes came in. “What’s up, homeboy? What do want to play for me?”

“Um, actually, I don’t have a song to sing. I just need to tell you something.”

“Is everything okay, boo?”

“Well, I hope so. Can you sit down?”

Mercedes took a spot on the bench next to him. “You’re scaring me, Kurt! What’s wrong?”

Kurt stared down at the piano keyboard, tapping at an F sharp over and over. Mercedes grabbed his hands. “Kurt?”

Kurt took a deep breath and looked over at his best friend. “Mercedes, I need to tell you something. I know that it might change everything about our friendship, but I can’t hide it anymore.” Kurt closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at her face when he told her. “I’m gay.”

Mercedes stilled completely next to him. He looked over at her and saw tears filling her eyes. His heart fell. “I’m sorry, Cedes. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was too scared. I get it, though, if you can’t be my friend anymore.”

“WHAT?” Mercedes shrieked. “You think you can get rid of me that easy, you’ve got another thing coming, Kurt.”

Kurt looked up sharply. “Really?”

Mercedes smiled through her tears. “Really. Besties for life.”

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, stood up, and grabbed Mercedes’s hand as they walked out into the school together, side by side.

The next person to find out was actually Rachel. Mercedes and Kurt were in his bedroom, looking at one of the vintage muscle magazines that April Rhodes had given him. He had stashed them under his mattress so his dad wouldn’t find them, but now that wouldn’t be as devastating, so he brought them out on occasion.

Kurt and Mercedes hadn’t heard the doorbell, but Burt let Rachel in and told her where to find them. As she walked down the stairs into Kurt’s room, she overheard him saying, “Now this one’s more my type, see? He’s more compact, trimmer waist. Not as muscley. I like the thinner ones, not so bulky.”

Rachel stopped short and squealed, “Kurt Hummel, are you looking at porn?”

Kurt jumped up. “No! Not really! Just, keep it down, Rachel, will you?”

The three of them curled up on the couch, one girl on either side of Kurt, and he held the magazine on his lap while they dished on the fake tans, debated the benefits of muscles versus muscle tone, and generally drooled over the men in the magazines. “Too bad they’re all wearing clothes, though,” said Rachel. “It might be nice to see what this one has under his loincloth.”

Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that, Rachel.”

 

Once Rachel knew, it wasn’t long before the whole glee club knew, and as rumors do, the news traveled fast around the school. Once the jocks had it confirmed that Kurt was not just gay, but out and proud, the bullying stepped up immensely. Kurt couldn’t walk down the hall at school without being slammed into a locker at least once, usually more than once. Sometimes he even ended up on the floor because they’d knock him off his feet.

He started going through four or five outfits a day because of all the slushies being thrown his way.

The bullying wasn’t only at school, either. He heard it at the coffee shop, the mall, the music store, and most especially, he heard it at church. Once the members of his dad’s congregation found out that he was out of the closet and officially gay, his dad was fielding phone calls from the adults, offering suggestions for camps and therapists to send him to that might “cure him”, while their children were taunting him at every opportunity.

Some of them were genuinely trying to convince him that he was living a life of sin because they were concerned for his eternal soul. Those that were genuinely loving were no less annoying or hurtful than those that just wanted to put him in his place, though. The worst of them all were the guys who had never been friendly, never cared, and continually bullied Kurt since he was a small boy dancing in the sanctuary. They had simply found a new reason to torture him.

Kurt would leave church on Wednesday nights with marks all over his clothing from pencils that had been shoved into his back, arms and legs. He found vaguely threatening notes tucked in the pocket of his Bible case, usually stating the author would send him to hell themselves. Kurt spent the rest of that school year longing for the freedom of summer break and cabin season.

The church youth group essentially shut down for the summer because so many people took off for the weekends. Three solid months between Memorial Day and Labor Day when no one would bother him, no one would notice him in the back row, reading his books, ear buds tucked under his hats so he could listen to show tunes instead of hymns.

Inevitably, the school year started up again, and the bullying became even worse. Burt was still seeing Carole, and Finn and Kurt had worked out an amicable truce after Finn defended the rest of the glee club, Kurt included, during Lady Gaga week when the football players cornered them in the locker banks. Finn and Carole had started attending Burt’s church with them on a regular basis, but it didn’t stop the rest of the jocks from tossing slushies at Kurt at school, or stabbing him with pencils and tormenting him relentlessly with words at church.

One week, Kurt had had enough. He needed a break from the constant torment.

Monday morning, his dad reminded him, “Don’t forget that Finn is coming to youth group on Wednesday night. Can you pick him up on your way?”

“I’m not going this week, Dad. Remember? It’s the Sing-Along Sound of Music at the Old Royal Theater. It’s a once a year event.”

“And I suppose next week it will be something else, right? Not okay, Kurt. You’re the pastor’s son. You need to show up unless you’re on your death bed.”

Kurt scoffed. “Right, Dad. It’ll just give them something else to gossip about. The harpies at church don’t give a crap about me, they just care that they have someone to pick on.”

“That’s not fair, Kurt. Those people love you, love us. Give them a chance.”

“Like they’ve always given me one? No way. I’m not going.” Kurt turned to walk out the door.

Burt said quietly, just loud enough to hear, “I gotta tell you Kurt, I’m real disappointed in you.”

Kurt just rolled his eyes and stalked out of the house, slamming the door in his wake.

 

Later that afternoon, Kurt was sitting in French class, insulting Azimio in perfect French that the jock had no hope of understanding with his Neanderthal brain. Kurt was very pleased with himself until he heard Mr. Schuester’s voice.

“Kurt? Can we talk to you outside?”

The ride to the hospital was the longest ten minutes of Kurt’s life, followed by the longest hour as they waited for the doctor to come out and give an update on his father’s condition. When the doctor finally arrived, Kurt couldn’t understand a thing he said. All he wanted was his daddy back, and all he could hear was “I don’t know”.

_I don’t know if there was brain damage._

_I don’t know when he’ll wake up._

_I don’t know IF he will wake up._

His first glimpse of his dad in that hospital bed attached to all the wires was completely overwhelming. He needed to be alone with his dad.

“Dad, can you hear me? If you can hear me, just squeeze my hand. Please? Just squeeze my hand.”

Kurt sank down into the chair beside the bed, wishing that somehow he could believe that there was a God who cared about him, but knowing that it wasn’t going to happen. If there ever was a God, he’d walked away from Kurt Hummel the day his mother died. Now it was possible that his father would die as well, and Kurt had never felt so alone.

 

The next day at school, Finn approached Kurt in glee club, absolutely furious that Kurt hadn’t thought to tell him about Burt’s heart attack. For the first time since Mr. Schuester had entered the classroom the day before, words came easily.

“Well I’m sorry Finn. It didn’t occur to me to call you because he’s not your father.”

A few more minutes of Finn babbling and Kurt decided to move his bag and allow Finn to at least sit next to him. Finn tried to put his arm on Kurt’s shoulder, but Kurt would have none of it. Finn was not allowed to all of a sudden pretend to be his brother when he had barely cared before. Then the parade of well-wishers and concerned people started, including beautiful songs of faith that Kurt couldn’t get into at all. Mercedes sang like an angel, but Kurt just couldn’t make himself pretend anymore.

“Mercedes, thank you. Your voice is stunning but I don’t believe in God.”

Quinn and Tina gasped, and Tina asked, “Wait what? Isn’t your dad a pastor?”

Kurt huffed. “You’ve all professed your beliefs. Now I’m stating mine. When I was a kid, God was a comforting character in a story book, much like Santa Claus or Paul Bunyan. When my mom died, I realized that there really isn’t a perfect, all-knowing, all-loving being. If there were, why would he take such a perfect creature away?”

Kurt couldn’t look at anyone else in the room, but once he started talking, he just couldn’t stop. “I mean, He makes me gay, then has his followers going around telling me it’s something that I chose. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life.” Kurt’s eyes filled with tears. “And right now, I don’t want a heavenly father. I want my real one back.”

Mercedes attempted to step in, then Quinn got angry, and Kurt had had enough. He stood up and left the room with one parting statement.

“You all can believe whatever you want to, but I can’t believe something I don’t. I appreciate your thoughts, but I don’t want your prayers.”

Even after making his wishes clearly known, he showed up at the hospital to find Carole, Finn, Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, and Pastor Jones singing hymns and praying around his father’s comatose form. Kurt waited outside respectfully until Rachel finished the song she was singing before he walked in.

“What’s going on in here?” Kurt tried desperately to push past his fatigue and grief and maintain a calm expression, when inside he was livid that his friends had gone against his expressed request.

Rachel turned away from where she had her hand on Burt’s head. “We’re just praying for your dad.”

Mercedes jumped in. “Rachel, Quinn and I are taking turns. We are all from different denominations and religions, but it shouldn’t matter, right dad?” She turned and looked at her father.

“Kurt, Mercedes told me about your change of heart, but I know your father. He is a man of God, and he would want us here right now,” said Pastor Jones. “I know you are angry and troubled, but please, think about your father’s wishes, too.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” snapped Kurt.

Carole reached out. “Honey, I know you’re upset about what’s happening, I get it. But, friends help out even when you don’t ask.”

At that moment, an acupuncturist came in dressed in a turban. “Mr. Kurt Hummel.”

“Whoa, dude! Why didn’t you just say you wanted to pray in Muslim?” Finn asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes as the woman retorted, “I’m not Muslim. I am Sikh.”

Kurt kicked everyone out of the room so the woman could start the procedure on his dad. “Amazingly, needles pierce the skin better than Psalms.”

 

The next day at glee club, Kurt stood in front of his friends to sing his own expression of love to his father. He stood near the piano and began speaking. “On the day of my mom’s funeral, when they were lowering my mom’s body into the ground, I was crying. I mean, that was the last time I was ever going to see her.” Kurt clasped his hands together in front of his body, gripping himself to try and gain the strength he needed to tell the story. “I remember I looked up at my dad and I just wanted him to say something, anything to make me feel like my whole world wasn’t over.

“And he just took my hand and squeezed it. Just knowing those hands were there to take care of me? That was enough. This is for my dad.”

He sang out clearly through his tears, allowing all the emotion of the week to pour out into his song. He allowed himself to remember all the moments of his life where he and his dad were happy together: the tea party on the lawn, learning to ride his bike, the proud smile on his dad’s face when Kurt sang in church or kicked a field goal or danced in a recital.

The rest of the glee club wept in silence as he finished the song and walked out.

 

He went straight to see his dad after rehearsal. This time when Kurt arrived at the hospital, there were several church members praying over his father. Kurt took a deep breath, steeling himself, and walked in. Three of the women looked up at him and smiled hesitantly, but the fourth turned to him and said, “This is all your fault, young man. You and your sinful choices have caused God to send a punishment to your family.”

Kurt gasped, but before he could formulate a response, one of the other women stepped forward and said, “Lucinda Brown, how dare you! God loves this young man just like he loves you and I. Get out of here with that attitude of judgment. Pastor certainly wouldn’t ever preach like that, and if he were able to, he’d be kicking you out himself.”

Mrs. Brown stalked out of the room, muttering to herself about false prophets and like-minded fools, while Kurt turned to his rescuer.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, Kurt. I’m so sorry she said that to you. She doesn’t have a clue about God if she thinks it’s okay to talk to one of his precious children like that.”

Kurt’s face twisted into a wry smile. _If only you knew,_ he thought, _If only you knew what “God’s People” are capable of._

 

That Friday, Kurt was walking through the day like a zombie, not wanting to think about a Friday Night dinner without his dad, and definitely not wanting to think it might be the first of many. Mercedes approached him in the hallway by his locker.

 “Kurt, I know you’re going through a really scary time right now, but I feel like I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt responded. “I know I shouldn’t be pushing my friends away right now, especially friends as fabulous as you.”

“Can I ask you one favor then?” Mercedes asked, looking up at him uncomfortably. “One thing? Come to church with me this Sunday?”

Kurt took a deep breath and was about to decline when Mercedes interrupted him. “Our church does this thing where we dedicate the service to someone, and I got them to dedicate this Sunday to your dad.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied, uneasily. “I can’t imagine the people at your church are going to be any more accepting of me than the people at my dad’s.”

“You get to wear a fabulous hat,” she wheedled.

Kurt broke into the first smile he’d worn since Mr. Schuester interrupted his French class. “Mercedes, you had me at fabulous hat.”

She chuckled. “Come on, let’s go to class.” She put her arm around him and they walked down the hall together, Kurt feeling just a tiny bit more hopeful than he had that morning.

The service at Mercedes’ church that Sunday was something very different than Kurt had ever experienced in his own church growing up. The thing with being a pastor’s kid was that Kurt never got to experience anything but his dad’s church. He had to sit still and listen and be perfect or expect hell from the members of the church. His dad preached in jeans and flannels most of the time, and the congregation dressed accordingly. There were no suits or Sunday best for the kids in his Sunday School, no one except Kurt.

Walking into Pastor Jones’ service, everyone was dressed in their finest suits and dresses. The ladies wore beautiful hats and bright printed dresses, and the men were all wearing ties. Another big change was that Mercedes was allowed to speak before she sang with the choir. In his dad’s church, women weren’t allowed to preach or speak to the church as a whole. His mom led the choir when she was alive, but he couldn’t ever remember seeing her pray in public or explain a song. It was always done by a man.

When Mercedes’ soothing tones washed over him and the congregation, it was like a balm to his soul. He was startled to see the congregation stand up and begin to clap along. He was even more astounded when the woman sitting next to him grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He felt cracks begin to form in the hard shell around his heart as memories flashed through his mind again, like the Friday Night dinner with the raw chicken.

 

That afternoon, he headed back over to the hospital. The Sikh acupuncturist would be coming back. He couldn’t help but tell his dad all about his Sunday morning experience.

He wrapped his dad’s hand in his own and began. “I’m sorry about the other day, Dad. I should have let those guys stay and pray for you. It wasn’t about me, it was about you and it was nice.” Tears began streaming down Kurt’s face as he confessed, “I don’t believe in God anymore, Dad, but I believe in you, and I believe in us. You and me. That’s what is sacred to me. And I am so sorry I never got to tell you that.” Kurt dropped his head down and allowed himself to weep openly.

He felt a small movement in his hand. “Dad?” He couldn’t believe what he was feeling and seeing. His dad’s hand was trying to hold his. He was going to be okay.

 

 

 

After Kurt’s dad was well enough to come home from the hospital, he and Kurt sat down and had a heart-to-heart about church. Kurt wasn’t sure if his dad had heard anything while he was in the coma, but as it turned out, he remembered enough.

“I know what you’re saying, Kurt, but I can’t believe that everything you knew as a child is just gone!” Burt tried to stand up and fell back to the couch.

“Dad, calm down. Your heart can’t take this kind of stress.” Kurt hovered around his dad, adjusting the pillows to make him more comfortable, hands in constant motion.

Burt sat up straighter. “This isn’t about me, son. This about you and your relationship with God.”

“That is a non-existent relationship, Dad. If there was ever a sign that there isn’t an all-loving being in the universe, being a gay teenager in Ohio certainly proves it.” Kurt sighed. “Nobody likes me. I have to sing a duet by myself in glee club this week.”

“Wait, what?”

“Never mind. Eat your soup. You had a serious arrhythmia, Dad. You need to take it easy until your stress test.”

“You’re my stress test.” Burt looked seriously disturbed. “We need to finish this conversation, though. What do you mean, nobody likes you?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you? I am the only openly gay kid at school, in this town. No one wants to be friends with the gay kid. No one wants to ‘catch the gay’. Why can’t I walk down the hall hand-in-hand with the person that I like? Why can’t I slow dance at my prom?”

Burt anged his head and sat back on the pillows. “Come here.”

Kurt came and sat next to his father, perched on the edge of the couch.

“Do you think I don’t want those things for you? I do. But until you find somebody as open and as brave as you, you’re just going to have to get used to going it alone. I’m tired now, but we’re not done talking about this, Kurt. God loves you and He made you who you are for a reason.”

 

Kurt pondered his dad’s words all week. He reflected back to his mother and the Veggie Tales tagling they used to share: “God made you special and He loves you very much.” Even so, watching all the other glee kids performing their duets drove a stake into his heart. Feeling lonely wasn’t a new thing for Kurt. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t lonely in some way or another since his mother died. Performing _Le Jazz Hot_ by himself was just an outward sign of his inner battle. It even got Rachel out of her self-centeredness for a few hours to offer him a duet at the end of the week. Her words echoed through his mind, “You might be lonely, but you aren’t alone.”

 

As Kurt went through the motions of caring for his dad, connecting with Carole and Finn, and maintaining grades at school, participating in the production of Rocky Horror, it never left his mind that he was going to have to go it alone. He watched the kids around him talking and laughing, kissing and holding hands, and then he’d get shoved into a locker to clear his head.

One afternoon, Burt came down to Kurt’s room as he was changing his shirt.

“What on earth is that on your back, Kurt?”

Kurt quickly pulled on a shirt. “It’s nothing, Dad.”

“That don’t look like nothing; that looks like a bruise.”

“I’m fine, dad.”

“Take the shirt off, Kurt. Let me see it.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Now, Kurt, before I get all worked up and stressed out.”

Kurt slowly peeled his shirt up and over his back to show his dad the layers of bruises he’d been dealing with, day after day, week after week, month after month.

Burt gasped. “Oh, Lord, Kurt. Who is doing this to you?”

Kurt looked his dad in the eye, checking to see if there was any hint of disappointment or rejection in him, but seeing only compassion and sorrow.

Kurt took a deep breath. “It’s the jocks, dad. They are the biggest homophobes you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something, because I’ve met the people who go to your church.”

“This can’t continue, bud. We need to do something about it.”

 

The next day, when Kurt got home from school, there was a brochure and a box on the dining room table. Kurt picked up the paper and looked carefully. His father had underlined some of it just for him.

_Dalton Academy for Boys_

_A private, non-denominational preparatory school_

_High academic expectations_

_ Excellence in the arts _

_ Zero tolerance bullying policy _

Kurt went to find his dad, who was sleeping on the couch.

“Dad, wake up! Dad!”

As Burt regained consciousness, he smiled at the brochure in Kurt’s hand.

“You saw it, huh, bud?”

“What is this?”

Burt’s eyes lit up. “Carole found it. It’s a school over in Westerville. They give scholarships to pastor’s kids and missionary’s kids.”

“You want to send me to a Christian school? Are you nuts? They’d kill me, or at least kick me out when they find out I’m gay.” Kurt scoffed and tossed the piece of paper back onto the table.

“Kurt, hear me out. I’ve already talked to the headmaster about it. He has already worked out the logistics for you to come, and he assures me that you will be safe there.” Burt looked at Kurt earnestly. “No bullying allowed, Kurt. And it won’t even cost us a dime.”

 

The following Monday, Kurt walked in for his first day at Dalton Academy. He was in awe of the grandeur and majestic architecture and art. It was culture shock compared to McKinley. After his first class, the entire student body streamed downstairs, excited for something, but Kurt didn’t know what was going on at all. He turned to the first friendly face he saw – a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy coming down the stairs.

“Excuse me, I’m new here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously there is more to tell in this story. I have so many thoughts running around in my head for what could happen with Kurt and Blaine and how Burt will react to their relationship, I can't stop imagining it! I will continue this story for sure. Whether or not I post it will depend on the reaction I get to this part! I really hope you enjoyed reading this. 
> 
> Many thanks to Kate (anxioussquirrel) and Scout (scout451) for the beta work. Thanks to Abby (abjess) for the amazing art!


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